Routine Surprises
by brynerose
Summary: Any life has its routine moments, but if there's one thing Prince Arthur should realize, it's that life with Merlin is a routine of anything can happen. Many of these are comical moments, but every so often, they turn serious... Ambiguous pre-S4. No slash. Rating for mild language and injury/peril, just to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So, I've procrastinated on several 'almost ready' stories for a stupidly long time, both because I wasn't sure about them and partly because real life. In fact, I didn't realize until I looked back at the original note I put on here how long it had been ::hangs head in shame:: But I hope people enjoy this and the other stories I have ready to go! Also, I couldn't resist just the short tease, both then and now, but it won't be too long before an update ;)**

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"The whole point of sending you on ahead was so that we _wouldn't_ lose the deer!" Arthur complained loudly as he reached the stream. His trigger finger itched to fire his crossbow even though he held the weapon loosely at his side.

Merlin perched on the steep far bank to study what Arthur hoped were tracks in the soft mud. "That doesn't mean I know where he's going to bound away! You sent me so far off to the side, I couldn't see him until your crashing boots sent him running!"

"Don't try to pin your lack of sense of direction on me. I can't help it if you can't follow a straight line. Just tell me your tracking skills have at least improved."

"It looks like he slowed down suddenly. Did a bit of a dance, too—watch your step there." Merlin's warning came at the same moment Arthur's boot shifted a significant piece of the bank. Water squished around his toe. He glared upward, but the manservant had already disappeared from view. A brief, joking thought crossed Arthur's mind about the ground just swallowing the deer up. It was exceptionally soft here, between the big spring thaw and recent heavy rains. Being rather more muscled than his wiry helper, Arthur had quite the trickier time scaling this higher side.

Merlin bobbed further uphill with odd little crouching steps, his expression confused.

This was one of those days when Arthur wondered how on earth his servant had made it this far in life. Setting out for a simple hunt had taken two hours longer than usual, owing to Merlin forgetting to order provisions from the kitchen, and discovering that Arthur's saddle needed significant repairs. Lucky chance that he hadn't been slated for patrol instead. So here they were, late-afternoon, hunting on foot. Arthur's patience was nearing bone dry. And still his servant contemplated the tracks in front of him.

"Intending to become part of the forest, Merlin?"

Merlin jumped to his full height as if a deer himself—and suddenly disappeared. No, not disappeared. He had shouted in surprise, as if grabbed by someone…pulling _down_. Arthur blinked, hand still braced on the crest of the rise. Had the ground _actually_ swallowed Merlin? That couldn't be right, and he didn't like the possibilities.

Arthur sprang forward, only to barely retreat in time before more dirt gave way. A ragged opening gaped where Merlin once stood, perhaps a little wider than his arm span now in diameter.

"Merlin!"

No answer. Arthur put a tentative foot forward; no telling how steady any of the ground actually was. His boot sank quite a bit. Must be an underground current running to the stream. Excess runoff could sometimes destabilize the areas around bodies of water. Fantastic. So he lay down flat, and inched his way to the edge as if venturing onto thin ice. The path seemed to take his weight better this way. "Merlin?" The sun retreated behind a cloud, easing his ability to see into the shadowed hole.

Only about eight feet separated the two of them. The gangly servant was up to his chest in flowing water, and partially buried in mud from the collapse. A broad gash leaked blood down one side of his slack face. Arthur noted several exposed rocks on the way down. Merlin's right arm had crumpled at an unnatural angle.

"Damn!" hissed Arthur.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Sorry about the delay...yeah, I really have no excuse, though I have been on an overall writing binge for the better part of a week now. I can say there are more stories coming up! Enjoy.**

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 _Only about eight feet separated the two of them. The gangly servant was up to his chest in flowing water, and partially buried in mud from the collapse. A broad gash leaked blood down one side of his slack face. Arthur noted several exposed rocks on the way down. Merlin's right arm had crumpled at an unnatural angle._

" _Damn!" hissed Arthur._

He felt the soil give a little right along the edge, and backed up. Not good. No way was this a single-man job, not with the risk of burying Merlin alive, or worse, joining him. This would require some kind of team, much like the time a trader's daughter had fallen in the Upper Town well the previous year. How far were they from Camelot? Was it even safe to leave Merlin as he was? Arthur glanced back down. The current wasn't fast, but if Merlin slipped and didn't wake up, he could drown.

"Merlin, can you hear me? This day is going badly enough without you turning into a damsel in distress. I need you to wake up. _Wake up_ , you clumsy oaf!" No response. Arthur shouted a few more insults that would raise the dead, and even tossed solid clumps of dirt right at Merlin's thin chest (could one 'carefully' throw anything?). Nothing. By now, Merlin's lips had started to turn blue, even at an eight-foot vantage point. Arthur prayed it was a trick of the light. If he didn't get to Merlin soon enough, the freezing cold water would.

"Ugh, damn it all to hell!"

Losing his cool wouldn't do either of them good. He was the crown prince of Camelot, the master of difficult situations. Think! The sun peeked out again, already so much lower. It couldn't be too long before the evening bell rang in the city. Everyone would be heading in for the night…

Including the patrols.

Though not satisfied with Merlin's condition for the time being, Arthur inched backward to more solid ground (as near as he could tell). The road couldn't be too far, by his reckoning. Anyone bound for Camelot would likely take that route. Short of actually trekking all the way home, it was the best option available. He'd take it.

The moisture just from laying on the bank had Arthur shaking at the slightest breeze despite his fervent pace. His entire front was brown with mud. The crossbow was left abandoned by the hole, but his sword remained on his belt, bits of earth scraped up and stuck to the crosspiece. Around him, the surrounding woods turned a green-grey as evening approached. He only spotted the road by the pale stone mile marker that happened to be in the vicinity.

Thankfully, fate didn't keep him long in waiting. He had only stood at the stone marker long enough to regain his breath when a short column of dusky horses and stark red capes approached at a trot. Leon rode in the lead.

"Hoy!" shouted Arthur, waving. For once, he couldn't care less how he appeared in front of them, as long as he was recognizable. "Sir Leon, over here! Quickly!" Refrains of 'it's the prince!' trailed along the column until it reached the mile marker. Leon immediately jumped from his mount to meet his prince.

"Sire, what happened? Were you attacked? Are you injured?" sputtered the senior officer.

"I'm fine, it's Merlin who's in trouble. He discovered a weakened stretch of ground near the stream. It collapsed…taking him with it." Arthur swallowed hard. "The hole is too unstable for me to climb down alone."

He led the way back to the accident site, pointing out a good distance from the cave-in to tether the horses. Only he and Leon ventured from there. Leon shrugged out of his cape as they went, then his chainmail, surveying the area. Both of them stepped as gingerly as possible.

"If we got some rope, Sire, I think we could lower someone right in. That branch up above should hold plenty of weight."

"That's what I was thinking. How long do you suppose if we send a rider to the Lower Town?"

"Certainly less than an hour to return. We might reach Merlin just after nightfall."

Arthur tried to keep his mind from racing. "Send your fastest man. The water is still cold enough in the daylight, and he's been down there for some time already."

"Were you able to talk to him?"

"The fall knocked him unconscious. Dispatch the rider, and then follow my lead. Have the others start a fire for torches."

Leon broke away, leaving Arthur to make the grimy crawl to the opening in the forest floor once again. Just enough light remained to see that Merlin looked the same as before, though water-thinned tendrils of blood had spread across his cheek and neck down to his soaked neckerchief. His chest moved with sharp, shallow breaths. So close, yet unreachable. Arthur's throat tightened at the memory of his petulant earlier remarks. Merlin may be hapless and infuriating at times, but he was not going to end like this if Arthur could help it.

"Just hold on. We'll get you out…"

Grunting and scuffling alerted him to Leon's return. The knight let out a frustrated sigh when he saw Merlin's predicament.

"Owen's away. You're sure there's no way to scale it?" he asked.

"Most of the soil is soft from the rain and loosened by the thaw. Just being here at the edge makes me uneasy. And even if someone could get down there, I doubt the walls would support the dead weight of a second man."

"But we'd have a better idea how badly he's hurt. A broken arm is one thing. An injury to his back would greatly complicate our efforts to move him. Gaius mentioned something like that once."

Arthur bit his lip. The point was fair. It didn't solve the problem of getting down _to_ Merlin, however. The longer this drew out, the more anxious he became. He hated being unable to act. Lost for further words, he craned his head back toward the waiting knights and horses.

A soft, ragged groan floated up from below.


	3. Chapter 3

**Aaand next chapter! For some reason I'm having document compatibility issues (the manager keeps saying it's not in msword format, but it should be the same as the two previous chapters!), and I haven't heard anything back yet from tech support. IDK, anyway, back to the action.**

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Arthur's and Leon's attentions snapped back to their trapped friend. They hadn't heard wrong—the shadowy figure below moved stiffly. Merlin was coming around!

"Thank God!" Leon exclaimed. "Try not to move too much, Merlin. We're working as fast as we can."

"Whaaaa….?"

"Merlin, it's Arthur. The ground gave way while you were taking your grand time tracking that deer. Pretty nasty fall, and you landed in the current that caused it. Can you get yourself any farther out of the water until we can get to you?"

The disoriented servant tried to turn onto his side, but the effort only elicited a weak cry of pain and a splash. His skin appeared translucent against the growing shadows. He barely shivered anymore. Arthur's heart felt just as cold.

"We have to get down there, Leon. He won't last much longer without help," he growled, crumbling loose dirt in one hand.

"But how?"

Arthur glanced at the impromptu camp. One of the horses tossed its head as a knight adjusted its bridle. "Leon…how much weight do you think a few of the reins lashed together would hold?"

"One man, perhaps, if we plaited them," posited the knight. "Might need a few belts, too. We wouldn't have the length to use the tree for leverage, though."

"No, we need the rope to do that. But it could at least get me down to Merlin, right? That's a step forward, and at the moment I'll take what I can get."

"Sire, it's probably better if one of the other—"

" _I will do it_ , Leon. I can't stand waiting up here when I could be doing something. We'll get the torches set up while the reins are plaited; you'll be in charge as long as I'm down there. Oh, and I'll need your cloak. Try to lessen the cold somewhat."

Leon sighed and nodded, always the loyal lieutenant to Arthur. Arthur had never been so grateful for help. Merlin was only a servant, of course, but underneath the astounding clumsiness and ineptitude, there was just _something_ about him that Arthur wouldn't trade for the world. Not that he'd admit that to anyone, of course.

"Good. Merlin, can you still hear us?"

An unintelligible moan came from the bottom of the hole.

"Listen to me carefully. I need you to _stay awake_. Whatever it takes, you're going to be able to answer me whenever I check on you. We're going to get some torches, okay? One of the knights is coming back with a rope, and I'm coming to get you. Understood?"

Another low, pained sound of acknowledgement. Merlin was completely masked in darkness now. This had better work.

They made a painstaking retreat to the camp, Leon explaining their plan to the men while gathering the necessary supplies. Over the next twenty minutes, the rein-rope started to take shape, and Arthur and Leon carefully lit the area around the collapse. Merlin did his best to answer every time, but his strength was quickly waning. His face was ghostly pale compared to the mud when Arthur looked in with a torch.

At last, the reins were as ready as they were going to be. Leon inspected what he believed to be the soundest side of the hole. Arthur pulled the other end of the makeshift line along with him as he belly-crawled his way there for the umpteenth time. When they got home, it was going to take a miracle to get the stains out of his clothes.

"Ready, Sire?" asked Leon.

"Ready."

The senior knight squared himself up to take Arthur's weight. Very very slowly, Arthur lowered himself over the edge, releasing small showers of dirt, and occasionally dropping small distances when the cut of the reins dislodged larger clumps. The exposed rocks provided bracing for his feet here and there. His palms burned despite the protection of leather gloves. He could only see enough below to try not to land on top of Merlin.

"Almost there," he grunted to Leon.

Suddenly the reins jerked—a considerable section of the earthen rim tumbled over Arthur's head. One foot slipped, which sent him crashing into the wall. Neither were significant impacts, but his heart leapt into his throat nonetheless. Even Merlin let out a startled noise.

"Sire!" Leon called from above.

Arthur's boots touched water. "I made it. Pass down the cloak." As soon as the fabric touched his fingers, he guided it into a long bundle over his shoulders. Then he turned to Merlin. He would have thought his servant dead if not for his stilted breathing, his skin was so cold. Up close, a number of bruises and scrapes were much more evident. Half of Merlin's right forearm was grossly swollen. When Arthur tried to haul him up, he couldn't choke back the shout of pain.

"Don't—I can't—" he gasped.

"I have to get you out of this water," Arthur countered grimly. His own breath hitched with every touch of the icy current. But he managed to pull Merlin onto the highest mound of debris, and proceeded to thoroughly check him over. The break to his arm seemed stable. One or two ribs had to be bruised, maybe even cracked, if the whimpers and flinches were anything to go by. Blood also darkened a tear close to the left knee of his trousers, despite the flowing water. His head wound would likely need to be stitched closed. Otherwise, the damage seemed tolerable. He could move all four limbs on his own, which was a good sign. Arthur tore strips from his shirttail to stem the larger gashes for the time being, then wrapped the cloak firmly around Merlin's upper body, letting him slump against the damp wall. When he didn't move any farther, Arthur tapped the servant's cleaner cheek. "Hey, don't slip away on me yet. We still have work to do."

"So…tired…"

" _You have to stay awake, Merlin_! Listen, focus on my voice. We are getting you out of here. We'll get you to Gaius, he'll fix you up with broth, and warm blankets, and a big fire. You'll be back to normal in no time. Just a little bit longer, okay? That's all I'm asking."

"Not even cold…anymore…if I just…"

"No you _don't_! I did not come this far to give up now!" But Arthur felt his own limbs shaking violently as he kept Merlin from sliding sideways. They were both going to be in serious trouble soon.

"Owen's returned, Sire!" announced Leon from his lookout position. "We'll have the pulley ready in just a few minutes!"

Arthur vigorously massaged Merlin's arms to warm them both. "You here that? Almost done. You'll be back on solid ground before you know it." Merlin wasn't unconscious, but his head wobbled like a loose ragdoll's. His lips stood out a deep purple against his white skin. Arthur could see the faint blue veins across his friend's closed eyelids. "Come on! Just follow orders this _once_!"

A heavy _thwack_ echoed above their heads. The coarse rope snaked down to Arthur's eye level, but he didn't move his gaze from his fading servant's face. Not until the slipknot at the end was secured under Merlin's arms, cloak and all, and the knights above hauled his limp form out of sight. A flurry of indistinct noise commenced; still Arthur waited with his neck craned to the sky. His toes had lost all feeling within their sodden boots. His shoulders and back ached from crawling around and climbing down. But all he cared about was how he had practically _felt_ the life draining from Merlin. Washing away in the damned freezing water. He prayed with all his might that they weren't too late. _Get him out, get him to Gaius. Whatever it takes_.

"Sire, take the rope!"

Only then did he realize the loop was swinging in front of his face. He ducked into it and tugged. Little by little, he emerged into a surprisingly clear, calm night. Leon hooked Arthur's foot with the rein-rope to pull him away from the hole. As soon as his feet hit the ground, he beelined for the horses. "Bundle him up as best you can and get him on a horse. I'm riding on ahead to get him back to Camelot with all speed. That's an order."

Activity flurried around him in the torchlight. However, Arthur only saw the horse he would take and the slumped figure being lifted onto it. This was just another mission, nothing more. Stay focused. Don't lose cool. It could have just as easily been him to fall instead of Merlin, but it wasn't. He was still fit to do something about the situation, and would.

The first leg of the journey was the most difficult. The combined weight of two men and a horse made Arthur wary of his path, not knowing the true extent of compromised ground. He guided the horse very specifically through the pitch-dark forest, a task made all the more difficult with Merlin braced in front of him. The servant was quiet, scarily quiet now. As much as Arthur didn't like that fact, he had to keep his attention on riding.

He spurred into a full gallop the moment they emerged onto the road. Much of the cloak around Merlin was cold and damp due to the soaked clothes underneath. Arthur himself shook with chills on top of the horse's pace, his head spinning with the refrain _no time, no time_! Somewhere in the distant wood, a wolf howled. Fresh clouds obscured the moon as they broke the treeline.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you to everyone who left such positive reviews! I would have updated sooner, but I have been on a production for the last two weeks, and the hours have been crazy. Plus I've had a couple more stories gearing up =) Here you are!**

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The long-awaited sight of torches in the tower guard posts struck new warmth in Arthur's cold-clenched chest. In fact, Camelot was unusually bright for this hour (not that he had any clue what hour that might be). Somewhere in the back of his exhausted mind, he realized his absence had surely been noticed by now. The thought only barely registered, though. All he cared about at this point was getting back in his chambers and out of these clothes. And that couldn't happen until he made sure Merlin would be taken care of.

He rode through the quiet Lower Town unimpeded, only passing a couple very surprised night watchmen. In stark contrast, however, the citadel courtyard buzzed with activity. A fresh patrol was mustering, with men, horses, and torches everywhere. On the steps of the castle itself, the king and Gaius oversaw the preparations. Whether Sir Owen had tried to alert anyone to the situation, it was impossible to tell, not that it mattered anymore. Arthur tried to call their attention, but found he didn't have the strength left to make himself heard over this whole racket.

His arrival did draw notice from the very nearest soldiers. Their exclamations of 'sire!' in turn alerted others as they rushed to help get Merlin down. And the ripple effect of diversion quickly attracted the eyes of the king.

"What's going on back—Arthur!" Uther plowed across the full courtyard, Gaius close behind. A rare expression of true worry etched his face at Arthur's filthy, exhausted appearance. "What happened? Are you injured? After the midnight bell, I feared—"

"I'm fine, Father. Nothing a hot bath and a night's rest won't take care of," groaned Arthur. Dismounting made his arms shake in protest. "It's Merlin—he fell into a concealed stream. Only by sheer miracle did Leon's patrol pass nearby, or we'd still be out there. They should be not long behind us. Gaius, he's pretty badly hurt, and freezing. I'm not sure when he lost consciousness again."

The wizened physician nodded and beckoned two squires for a stretcher.

The king's tension unraveled. "Ah. Unfortunate on the boy's part, but better than I had feared. I'll send someone to your chambers immediately to see you out of that mess, and we'll put the whole thing behind us," he declared contentedly.

"As soon as Merlin is taken care of, I'll clean up."

"You've done admirably for his care while his life depended on it, now you can leave him in the appropriate hands. He's indebted to you enough."

Despite feeling dead on his feet, Arthur met his father's gaze steadily. "He's my servant, Father. This happened on my watch, and regardless of station I wouldn't leave anyone in such a state. I'm just going to see him settled before I can let myself rest. I'm resolved in the matter."

"Arthur!" a much higher voice cut in.

All three of them whipped around. Morgana flew down the castle steps, long hair and gown streaming behind her.

"I told you to stay inside—" Uther rounded on her.

"You told me not to interfere with the patrol. Seeing as how the patrol's no longer needed, I don't believe there's a problem. Arthur, what happened?"

"It's a long story, but I'm fine. I wish everyone would stop asking! Now, can we _please_ get Merlin inside?" growled Arthur. His insistence earned him a stern look from his father, but Morgana quickly swooped between them.

"I'll make sure he's taken care of, my Lord. Today has been stressful enough without harping at him." With that, she accompanied Arthur with Gaius and the stretcher. Arthur couldn't decide whether to be thankful or annoyed at her stepping in.

"I'll need the patient's bed moved as close to the fire as possible," said Gaius as they entered the infirmary. "And lots of blankets. And some tea would be nice."

"I can help with that," Morgana volunteered before Arthur could open his mouth. When he tried to protest, she sat him firmly on a bench at the rough little dining table. A blanket already sitting out went around his shoulders. "You're freezing and you look half dead. I said no more harping, but that doesn't mean I'll let you keep running about." Then she turned away to help Gaius with the requested arrangements.

Now that he was sitting, Arthur couldn't summon the energy to stand back up if he wanted to.

"We'll need to get him out of those wet clothes," Gaius directed as the squires made to transfer Merlin to the bed.

"Careful of his right arm, it's broken. Not horribly, I don't think, but bad enough," Arthur chimed in from where he sat. He fidgeted watching everyone so busy—Morgana building the fire and putting water on to boil, one young man stacking the gathered blankets, the other helping Gaius at the bedside. The careworn master of the hour checked carefully over his ward's injuries, feeling out the swollen arm and looking under Arthur's makeshift bandaging. Despite gentle attempts to wake him, Merlin was unresponsive. Arthur tried to swallow the dry lump in his throat. "He's going to be alright, isn't he?"

"I haven't made a full assessment yet. You really should listen to your father this time, and go get some rest. I have plenty of help here."

"Will everyone forget me for a moment? I'm fine! He's the one bruised and bleeding!" In spite of the flames and layers of blankets, the unconscious Merlin was beginning to tremble again. The dark stain in the fabric covering his forehead and most of one eye was more visible in this light.

"With all due respect, Sire, what good will it do if you catch your death worrying over him? Let me do my work; you see to your wellbeing." Gaius met Arthur's fierce and worried gaze. Both of them knew this was the worst Merlin had been since the time he drank poison to save Arthur. At least these injuries did not have magical cause. However, they were no less serious. "What you have already done has been invaluable. Consider this respite well-earned."

Morgana appeared next to Arthur on the bench, offering him a mug of tea. "He's right, you know. You can be overly hard on yourself. Not everything is up to you to fix."

Arthur was instantly warmed by the first sips of the hot drink. "Perhaps. Although I might ask your indulgence a little longer, if nothing else than to ensure my legs will be able to carry me to my own chambers…"

"Fair enough. But you'll stay where you are," conceded Gaius. "I haven't been court physician all these years for nothing. I know what I'm doing, however it may appear at first. Starting with the broken bones you spoke of." He pointed out a crate to one of the squires, who retrieved it. "I'll need to set the arm and bind it so it heals properly. He won't have use of that hand for several weeks, no getting around that. And I warn you, this is not going to be pleasant to watch."

Arthur figured the last comment was more for Morgana's sake, as he had certainly seen worse injuries, including his own. With the squire poised with linen and an appropriate-sized piece of wood, Gaius took a deep breath, steadied Merlin's arm between his two hands, and twisted slightly.

Merlin suddenly howled in pain, held down only by the second squire, who had stood ready at the headboard. Gaius fought to keep the injured limb still as his patient tried to pull away. With the first squire's help, it was secured flat to the wood. Poor Merlin seemed to be only half-conscious, confused and hurting. His breathing was ragged in the midst of the tremors wracking his body. Okay, maybe this wasn't so easy for Arthur to watch. Beside him, Morgana clung to his arm with a hand clapped to her mouth.

Gaius quickly administered some kind of potion, and Merlin's struggling subsided into the barest quivering. Gaius tucked the blankets very carefully around the splinted arm.

"Deceptive as it might be, that's actually a good sign," he reassured the young onlookers. "I would be worried indeed if he hadn't reacted to that."

"And what about the shaking?" asked Morgana in a small voice.

"It is possible to become so cold that you can't fight it anymore. This is a dangerous point to reach, especially out in the wilderness. But thankfully, it can be remedied when treated in time—as you made sure, Sire. His body is just trying to warm itself up again. He should rest well now."

Arthur swallowed hard, remembering when Merlin said he didn't feel cold anymore, surrounded by icy water. "I think I'll take that well-earned rest now…"

Gaius nodded. Morgana helped Arthur to his feet, and this time he welcomed the assistance. His own chills had subsided, but he still felt a cold ache in his bones. Stiff patches in his clothes reminded him that he was still filthy from crawling around in the mud. The last thing he remembered before the rest of the night became a blur was Gaius starting on the wound along the side of Merlin's face.


	5. Chapter 5

**At last, I finally sussed out the ending! Apologies for the wait, and thank you to those who have followed along for the ride; cheers :)**

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Arthur first registered a piercing light across his face, oddly sudden. Once he muddled through the layers of deep sleep to (attempt) opening his eyes, he discovered a thin sliver of sun to be the origin of the offending beam. So he rolled over, taking the inviting cover of a nearby pillow with him. Then it struck him that the light's position was way too high for it to be dawn.

He leapt out of bed—and his entire body seized up with dull pain. Luckily, his proximity to the mattress meant a soft landing as he keeled over sideways. Most of the room was still dim, owing to the closed curtains. Arthur quickly remedied that. The site that met him through the window was a castle in full late-morning activity. He was supposed to be on patrol today! Why had no one come to rouse him? Why wasn't his father breaking down the door wondering where he was? Of all the times for him to _not_ be the center of attention (which he often desired in other circumstances), they had to pick _now_?

And yet, he had apparently not been completely forgotten. A covered tray sat on his dining table, accompanied by a small bottle and a scrap of parchment. So someone had been in here, and not woken him?

It most certainly wasn't Merlin, then, the thought sourly crossed his mind. He knew his clumsy servant would need time to recover, but that hadn't stopped him from hoping the idiot would try to come back to work anyway.

Arthur's stomach growled. He hadn't had anything since the provisions on the hunt yesterday. Food first, then answers. The biscuits still held a little warmth; the pork and cheese went very well tucked inside. As he popped a couple grapes into his mouth, his attention turned to the parchment.

 _I hope this note doesn't find you too alarmed. I convinced your father to let you have the morning off, considering yesterday's ordeal. The potion is for the soreness you're undoubtedly feeling. Be sure to take it with your food, so your stomach doesn't trouble you later, and drink plenty of water._

 _Merlin is coming along fine, don't worry. He should be able to return to less strenuous duties in the next couple days. I want to thank you—on both our behalves—for what you did. Fewer and fewer men are willing to do so much to help another, especially one of lower status. However, mercy and compassion are just as important in a king as the ability to command respect. I daresay we could all use a little more compassion for each other, and a great leader does so by example._

 _Gaius_

Well, that was a few mysteries solved. Arthur washed the bitter tonic down with a goblet of water, splashed a little on his face from the wash basin, and set out to ready himself for what remained of the day. His only real obligation left was afternoon training, so he settled on a light shirt and one of his older pairs of breaches to wear. Nothing complicated, for being on his own. There were no visiting dignitaries to impress. His muck-covered boots had been exchanged for a fresher pair. Good. Merlin's substitute was halfway competent.

He grabbed an apple from the table on his way out the door. Note or no note, first on his priority list was to check on Merlin. Funny, really, his compulsion to be sure of the commoner's welfare. No personal servant of his before had drawn so much of his attention, and a fair bit of the attention any of them drew was anger. What made Merlin so different? Even a girl among the serving staff would make more sense—

"Oh!"

 _Clang—sploosh!_

Gwen appeared suddenly, turning the same corner as Arthur, just from the opposite direction. The sharp clang was the metal vase of flowers she dropped, spraying them both with water.

"Sire! I'm so sorry. Let me get that—or do you want a towel first—"

"No, it's my fault," Arthur insisted, bending down to help gather the scattered blossoms. "A gift for Morgana, I take it?"

"She is admired by many," agreed the quiet handmaid. "Don't worry, I can get more water and spruce them up. You seem to be in a hurry today."

"Just taking care of a few things before duties," he scoffed. The last flower retrieved, they stood in unison.

Gwen broke into that lovely, knowing smile of hers. "Going to see Merlin?"

"No—well, I mean—I have to—"

"It's a great thing you did, saving him. He's become a friend to us all, in one capacity or another." Without elaborating on her meaning, she continued on her way to the royal chambers.

The infirmary held a much calmer air when he entered this time. Gaius sat on a stool with his nose and magnifying glass to some old tome, though the prince's entrance immediately drew his attention. "Sire, good to see you up and about!" The fire still crackled heartily, silhouetting the prone figure in the cot before it. A white linen bandage cleanly circled Merlin's head; his unruly dark hair stuck out over it. His right arm sat comically thick on top of the covers. Thin, pink fingertips were still visible at the end of layers of binding. He breathed easy, to Arthur's relief, and seemed untroubled in sleep. His skin had returned to a much healthier tone.

"No trouble during the night, as I mentioned in my note," continued Gaius, rising stiffly from his perch. "He hasn't woken yet, but an ordeal such as yesterday's would exhaust anyone. How are you feeling?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Do you have to start with that again? It's no different from any routine mission, campaign, or hunt I've ever been on."

"Well, we can't really call this one 'routine,' can we?"

"Okay, something _always_ goes wrong if Merlin's around. Perhaps not always life threatening, but certainly eventful." Arthur couldn't hide the smile—now he was actually showing fondness?—at the thought. That was their routine. Mishaps, forgetfulness, fights, distress… some kind of unforeseen, impossible-to-fully-prepare-for hijinks no matter what they set out to do. It was hilarious, actually.

And they always got back up from it. Be it seconds, hours, days, or weeks, they got back up. And in the meantime, he had plenty to hassle Merlin about. That should be entertaining on its own.

Merlin shifted in his sleep, momentary discomfort pinching his features as his broken arm moved. His bundled appearance made him look much younger. Arthur wondered how many times Merlin's mother had kept watch like this after some adventure gone haphazard. He imagined she had quite the undertaking over the years.

"Gaius, if you need a break to take care of some things, I can sit here a while," the offer left his mouth before he fully thought it out. The court physician smiled.

"I should be glad of some fresh air and a stretch of my legs," admitted the older man. "Only a couple remedies to deliver. Shall I get you anything before I depart, Sire?"

"No need, I ate before coming here, and your tonic is working well. Carry on."

Of course, once the door clacked shut, he realized he had no idea what he planned to _do_ with only an unconscious servant for company. Most of Gaius' books made Arthur's head swim before too long. The sunlight coupled with the fire was almost too warm. One of the girls would probably take the opportunity to do some stitching, but that was certainly the last thing Arthur intended to do. He pulled a stool up to the side of the bed away from the fire, snagged a crust of bread from the table, and sat.

Merlin's chest rose and fell steadily under the blankets. An old nightshirt replaced his filthy clothes from the accident, the narrow right cuff slit quite a ways to accommodate the bulky splint. Arthur wondered if all of his servant's shirts would need to be so altered. The thought brought a smile to his face, mentally picturing Merlin with one sleeve flopping about as he tried to work. But work he would, because that's the kind of person Merlin was. The kind that didn't give up, no matter what routine or unroutine situation he made his way through. And maybe that's what Arthur admired the most about him.


End file.
